By Karen Wheeler, Slice of Life

A few years ago I was at a veterinary convention in Florida when a woman walked up to me. “You’re from Minnesota, right?” she said. I looked at the stranger in surprise. It was an early morning in January, and I was enjoying a cup of coffee in the lush lobby of the Orlando hotel where I was staying. I was not wearing a nametag so I had no idea how she knew I was from Minnesota. 

I said as much, and she simply smiled and pointed at my coffee cup. I looked down and realized I had adopted my typical morning pose from back home. Both hands were curled tightly around my cup, and I was slouched slightly over so that the steam could warm my face. I glanced around at all the other early morning coffee drinkers and – sure enough – they were reclining back in the warm, humid air, coffee cups casually pushed aside as they scanned the newspaper.

Karen Wheeler

“Wow,” I said. “I didn’t even realize what I was doing. Did my Coffee Curl give me away?”

“Yes,” the woman replied, “the Coffee Curl is my favorite thing to check for in out-of-town visitors. But, after having lived in the Twin Cities for 20 years, I also look for the Minnesota Hunch. You know the one. It’s where, when you walk outside in the sub-zero temps, first your shoulders hunch and then roll forward. Your elbows stiffen against your ribcage as your neck scrunches down. The muscles tighten in your neck and back and, before long, your chin begins to tuck down as if trying to warm up behind an invisible scarf.”

“I know that!” I cried. “I’ve done it a million times!”

“I see it, even here in the warmth,” the woman replied. “It can take a few days to go away, just like the Jaw Clench.”

“Wait, don’t tell me!” I said. “I know this one, too! The Jaw Clench - a discernable display of muscle activity where the molars are either clamped tightly together or held in rigid position by the cold-induced spasms of the temperomandibular joint. Often the Jaw Clench is accompanied by a staccato style of speaking, with lips barely moving and short little phrases that usually sound something like ‘I am so cold’ or ‘It is so cold.’ This condition often occurs at the same time as the Minnesota Hunch. Am I right? Am I not so absolutely right?!”

“You betcha!” the woman laughed. “And how about that Icy Sidewalk Shuffle? That one is often brought on by a spell of freezing rain, where everyone walks around town in the same way. Short little steps. Arms flared and slightly bent. Eyes fixated at a 45-degree angle onto the ground ahead. I remember how that Icy Sidewalk Shuffle made my inner thigh muscles hurt the next day, all that tense little tiptoeing about.”

“Tell me about it,” I said. “And speaking of sore muscles, you can’t forget about Commuter Claw. Fingers frozen in place from a death grip on the steering wheel. Eyes blurry and strained from peering through a snowy windshield in an effort to see the edge of the road. Back and neck muscles tighter than an overstretched bungee cord because you are subconsciously bracing for an out-of-control driver to slam into you. Man, I hate the Commuter Claw! Some days my hands don’t unclench until lunchtime.” 

“Do people still do as much Clod Kickin’ in Minnesota as they used to?” the woman asked. She was referring, of course, to those clods of frozen snow and ice that form on cars just behind the wheels. You know, the ones that drop off overnight and then ooze their sloppy guts all over the garage floor.

“When I lived in Minnesota,” the woman continued, “we would kick snow clods off everywhere we went, just so they didn’t make such a mess at home. One day I absentmindedly kicked one off in Sally Dee’s driveway – her father was so upset that he didn’t speak to me until Flag Day. I guess back in those days the native Minnesotans considered it bad manners to leave your clods behind.”

“They still do,” I said. “In fact, I was always taught that a person should do their Clod Kickin’ in public places, like the grocery store or school parking lot. Never on someone’s driveway – unless you don’t like them much.”

“Well, it’s been so fun reminiscing about Minnesota winters,” the woman said, “but I had better get going. Enjoy the Florida warmth!” She smiled and walked away, and I leaned back in my chair. It seemed a bit unnatural, but I took a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders. Uncurled my fingers. Stretched out my legs. It felt a bit strange, but wonderful all the same. 

Indeed, knowing the terminology but not having any immediate need to use it is definitely what I would call Minnesota nice. 

(Karen Wheeler is a veterinarian who lives in Burnsville. Her column is one of several opinion and commentary pieces appearing regularly in this newspaper.)